Royal Trouble
by Hip Neptune
Summary: Civil war plagues Dark Land, causing Bowser to send the three elder koopalings to the Real World for refuge. Years later in Brooklyn, a broken Roy stumbles upon a pipe back to the Mushroom Kingdom. With no way of return, Roy must now get used to the world he was born in, and he must learn to treat a friend as an enemy; a tougher fight than any conflict the strong koopaling handled.
1. Escape

Night 0: July 10, 1982

Ruckus continues outside despite the sun sinking below the horizon hours ago. Bombs defuse only dozens of feet away from Koopa Castle, shaking the citadel to its core and frightening its residents. The castle's denizens only desire a peaceful night's rest, but alas, peace remains unknown in a state of civil war caused by a successor crisis.

With the confirmed death of Morton Koopa Senior and the disappearance of his eldest son Traw Koopa, the second oldest son, Bowser Koopa, ascended to the throne per Dark Land's Royalty Law. However, with Traw's rediscovery two years into Bowser's reign, Traw states Bowser and his younger siblings lured him into a trap; he feels Bowser's responsible for his disappearance to gain the throne. Thus, he and his supporters rebelled against the current Dark Land government, sparking the current unrest cursing the land and threatening those in the Castle.

In one of the Castle's bedrooms, Ludwig von Koopa, Lemmy Koopa and Roy Koopa huddle together, none of them able to sleep through the night due to the noise and their fears.

"The loud things that go boom… I'm scared. I want Mommy," Lemmy cried as one of the Castle's bullet bill blasters sounds followed by faint screams.

"I-I hope it ends s-soon," Ludwig replied, shaking as he wraps his arms around both Lemmy's and Roy's necks. He attempts being brave for his two younger siblings, but even the collected Ludwig remains fearful. If they're together, then they have nothing to fear.

Unlike the other two, Roy doesn't understand what peace is due to his young age; war's been occurring in Dark Land since before he hatched almost two months ago. Despite being used to the loud sounds from war, Roy feels uneasy; the enemy troops never came THIS close to the Castle, ever.

Ludwig stares at Roy in pity. His youngest brother understands death and violence before he could even speak or walk. No kid should ever have that fate bestowed upon them. Kids should be playing with cars, not participating in endless bomb drills whilst witnessing the massacring of hundreds.

"Here," Ludwig said as he pulls out his wand. From the tip of the wand, a soothing lullaby blares louder than even the largest of bob-ombs can disrupt. The uneasiness in Roy melts away, and the koopaling closes his eyes before expelling little snores. Being careful not to wake him up, Ludwig picks Roy up and lays him down in his crib.

"I'm still scared, Luddy!" Despite the music, Lemmy still whimpers to his brother.

"Shh, Lemmy, Roy's asleep, and we know how hard it is for him to get to sleep. We need to calm down and sleep too. Just focus on the music. Mom and Dad and their army will protect us."

Lemmy nods as he rises from the floor and lays down in his bed, with Ludwig doing the same. With the lullaby continuing, the two then were able to fall asleep.

* * *

Day 1: July 11, 1982

A hectic and somber morning greets the residents of the Castle. Servants run two and fro, each carrying a crate loaded with mysterious items. Soldier patrols march throughout the Castle's exterior, threatening to use force on anyone bent on destroying it. Despite the mess, the three koopalings never wake up until Bowser and Clawdia barge into their room.

Frightened, Roy utters a short cry of surprise while Lemmy and Ludwig shoot up from their beds, alert yet confused.

"Bowser? Clawdia? What's wrong?" the eldest koopaling questioned.

With tears in her eyes, Clawdia attempts to speak, but she's unable to state a word without breaking down in anguish. Patting her shoulder, Bowser instead takes the liberty of addressing the three.

"Please gather around."

Lemmy approaches Bowser and sits on the floor, while Ludwig grabs Roy from the crib, nears Bowser, and sits on the floor cross-legged, placing the youngest koopaling on his lap. The two brace themselves; nothing good ever comes from an impromptu meeting during the morning hours. By Clawdia's reaction, this meeting shows no exception.

"The battle yesterday and last night was tough," the king sighed, "Traw's forces were pushed back, and the Castle's no longer under threat. But there's bad news. I'm sorry to say but due to last night… Aly and Lenny are no longer with us."

Ludwig feels as if a thousand needles pricked his heart. His family, slaughtered only because of a throne. Ludwig abhorred this war; he wants it to end. But he also doesn't want his other uncle ruling the Land with Morton's iron fist. Meanwhile, Lemmy stares at Bowser, confused at the announcement.

"What? Did they get lost?"

Not wanting to talk further about the tragedy, Bowser sighs in anguish. Ludwig takes the exhale as a sign to clarify; he whispers in Lemmy's ear, resulting in the younger koopaling now frowning and trying to hold back tears.

"No…" he squeaked, a tear escaping his control.

Bowser nods his head, attempting to compose himself after a moment of silence, while Clawdia hugs the children in comfort. Bowser then hugs the three before continuing, "They fought valiantly to the end. We should commemorate their efforts, and always keep them in our memories. But now, we received info from our spies that Traw's now sending mercenary forces to... Possibly kill me, Clawdia and you three."

Ludwig and Lemmy, not expecting to be a target due to their obvious noninvolvement, gasp at the news.

"I'm too busy leading the armies, and Clawdia's too busy performing healing surgeries on our troops," Bowser continued, breaking off the hug, "And the servants are loyal to the war action. None of you three have protection here. I can't risk you three being in danger here, especially not together. You're the Kingdom's next heirs."

Figuring out what Bowser's about to announce, Ludwig continues frowning while Lemmy looks at him in confusion.

"So…?"

"I'm having three servants take you three to the Real World."

Lemmy's eyes bulge while Ludwig continues his frowning. The duo heard about the Real World and about how discriminatory they are towards any species not human. How is going there safer than staying on Plit?

"We need to send you there. Traw's magikoopas cannot track you down there," Bowser replied, seemingly reading their minds, "I don't want any of you dead. Now, meet your new, and hopefully temporary, guardians! Kamek, Kammy, Kamella, come over here!"

The three magikoopas fly into the room on their broomsticks, each carrying forged documents about the koopaling they're tasked to care for. Kammy hovers before Lemmy while both Kamek and Kamella stand by Ludwig.

"Ludwig, you'll be living in Austria with Kamek. Anywhere in Austria works, considering it's a neutral country. Swap places every now and then."

Ludwig grins; he loves German and Austrian culture, from their musicians to their food; he can taste the Mozartkugeln already. Despite missing his parents and siblings, he considers this experience to be a once in a lifetime offer. Likewise, Kamek offers a little smirk to his adopted-son-turned-boss.

"I'll take care of him, Your Mightiness. I'll make sure he gets taught the EVIL lessons you so desire to present to him!"

"Good, raise my Crown Prince like you raised me," Bowser nods his head, "Lemmy, you'll be living in Canada with Kammy, possibly in limbo between British Columbia and the Yukon. Switch between the two."

Lemmy, not knowing where Canada's located or what a Canada even is, doesn't show much emotion to the decision. Kammy only nods her head in understanding.

"Lastly, Kamella, take Roy through the sewer in New York City's borough of Brooklyn; it's clear from the rats that nobody ever goes down those sewers, so no one will suspect a thing. I have a rented apartment there in Brooklyn for you and Roy to stay in, and a summer house in the Cape Cod area of Massachusetts to stay in. Again, switch between the two."

"I will, sir," Kamella obeyed, "But why these three, err, multiple places?"

"The kids will be spread out, Traw won't suspect a thing, and most importantly, I believe the best places for them are the ones I assigned. Any other questions?"

The magikoopas shake their heads. Kamek and Kammy beckon their koopalings to get on their broomsticks while Kamella snatches Roy from Ludwig.

"Let's leave now before Traw puts us in danger," Kamek advised.

As the magikoooas fly off into the blue sky, Bowser stares at them in grief. Last night, he lost his two siblings; now today, he just lost his three adopted sons. He hopes all three will be able to come home to a safe Dark Land soon.

And that hope is why he's continuing his fight against Traw's usurping army.

* * *

NOTES: Presto! First chapter done!

But with that out of the way:

So, during Shards of Love Chapter 6 (as well as several other chapters), I mentioned the childhoods of the three elder koopalings... Yet I never went in depth over why their childhoods came to be in the story solely because I consider it filler for that specific story (and I'm not a fan of fillers). Instead, I created this, told in Roy's account (starting in Chapter 3). As you get to the later portions of Shards of Love, or even in this story, you'll see why I specifically chose Roy to base this story on rather than Lemmy/Ludwig.

This story also explains more in-depth of my personal headcanon of Bowser, the Koopa Troop and even the Mario Brothers, all wrapped in one. Hence, reading Shards of Love is not required to understand this.

Yes, if you could tell from Bowser's dialogue, the Koopalings aren't Bowser's kids in this story (matching established canon); their relationship and perhaps the concept of Bowser Jr will be explained throughout. And yes, much of my headcanon of the three eldest koopalings were inspired by Britain's Operation Pied Piper conducted during WWII, which had millions of children evacuated from London in a matter of days. Their voices in the DOS/CD version of _Mario is Missing!_ (although it's not a canon game, I actually find it intriguing) also led me down this path. Of course, I found oddities that Ludwig had a near-stereotypical central European accent I'd associate with Transylvanian vampires (but I picture him as Austrian or German due to his name), while Roy has a hint of a Brooklyn accent in many areas of _Mario is Missing!_ , although not as thick as his (Bully's) in the cartoons. The others, despite their awful voices (other than Wendy), didn't seem out-of-place in the Mario world, so I kept them only inside the Mario World. Interesting fact: The unused Lemmy soundclips in that game also indicate a more proper, gentleman-like tone, which is one reason why I picked Canada for Lemmy (along with his apparent love for cold environments).


	2. Brooklyn

Yes! I finally uploaded another chapter! In my defense, I had to make sure everything flowed the way I wanted.

Anyway, this will be in Kamella's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

Day 1: July 11, 1982

After meeting with Sir Bowser and his kids, we jet towards the Pipe Zone, koopalings in hand (and in my case, literally). Not to be confused with the Pipe Maze, the Pipe Zone's nothing more than an empty space consisting of ancient ruins, a grassy field and a curiosity-provoking patch of gravel in the middle, with three small obelisks surrounding the patch.

Guiding my broomstick with one hand while holding onto Roy via under my shoulder, I land near the patch of gravel, far ahead of Kamek and Kammy due to them needing to go slow for their second passengers. Speaking of, I should check Roy's condition; hopefully he's not startled over the flight. I take him out from under my arm and study him.

Roy's asleep as usual; poor thing's too used to war and commotion that a flight won't startle him. But that's a good thing. He needs to be tough; it's the Koopa way. The others failed at raising Ludwig and Lemmy to be tough, in my opinion. At least for now, Roy will be an easier koopaling to raise than either Ludwig or Lemmy; all Roy does is sleep, while Lemmy couldn't be even a foot away from a parent of his before he'd scream and cry... And Ludwig's tantrums; oh my word. He cried over EVERYTHING and he refused to sleep. Plus, Roy won't remember a lick about his family; that'll make raising him as the next king of Dark Land easier for me, I figure.

My patience for Kamek and Kammy wearing thin, I start pacing around the field, broomstick in one hand and Roy in the other. I start doing gentle rocking motions with him as I pace to keep him asleep, all while I keep an eye to the sky, hoping for their arrival at any moment.

A speck in the sky enlarges, followed by another such speck which also grows. As the objects got closer, I spot one with blue robes, and the other with purple.

Kamek and Kammy. About time!

As they land, the two koopalings hop off the brooms and the two magikoopas wielded the brooms.

"Woo, sorry for the wait, Kamella," Kammy apologized, "Lemmy needed the restroom. Y'know, flying and all that."

I roll my eyes; yeah, sure. These koopalings need to be more acquainted with magic; shame the Real World won't teach that.

"We need to hurry, before Traw gets to us," Kamek rushed as he pulls out his magic wand. Kammy repeats the process, while I lay my broom on the ground before pulling out mine.

"Vienna! Whitehorse! Brooklyn! Let's go!" Kammy chants before she smacks the northern obelisk with a purple energy ball from her wand. Kamek and I repeat the spell before we cast our blue and black energy balls at the southwest and southeast obelisks, respectively.

With the three obelisks buzzing, a small tremor occurs before a warp pipe budges out from the gravel field. This warp pipe, unlike any other warp pipe in the Mario World, can take us into any other galaxy or universe, including the Real World, if activated with three ancient magic energies. As far as I know, only Kamek, Kammy and I can perform this together, but I may be mistaken.

When the pipe stopped growing, Kamek, while holding Ludwig's hand, gets into the pipe, followed by Kammy and Lemmy.

"Well," I whispered to Roy, who by miracle still manages to stay asleep, "Time to say bye to the Mushroom World. Hopefully for now."

After my departing words, I jump down the tube, bracing myself to handle the Real World.

* * *

Day 2: July 12, 1982

I passed out in the Brooklyn sewers. Geez, I hate traveling through warp pipes.

Even worse: not only is Roy awake, but now he's screaming. He must be hungry; after all, I'm unsure how long I've been unconscious for, but I assume a few hours to a day. I need to recalibrate my Day counter for these entries; lame that I need to do that so soon.

Of course, I'm the most prepared magikoopa in Sir Bowser's army, so I have a bottle and a few packets of powdered formula for the kid. Unfortunately, no water. Err, no clean water. After all, water's abundant around here – it must've rained in New York recently – but I can't just use standing sewer water. That'd cause disease!

I sighed; I can't use magic in the Real World to the same degree as I could on Plit, but a simple fire spell may work in this atmosphere.

Sighting a metal bucket nearby, I grab it and dunk it into a large puddle of clear water. I then put the bucket on the ground, summon a fire spell with my wand and tap the bucket's side with the tip. About a half-minute later, the water's boiling; the water should be clean and sanitary now.

I tear apart the formula packet and dump the contents into the bucket before picking up the bucket (which did cool down, surprisingly) and swishing the liquid around until the powder mixes in. Satisfied with my stirring, I dump the water into the bottle and stuck the bottle tip in Roy's mouth. His screaming and crying end the moment the bottle touches his mouth. By Golly, I love how this kid acts compared to the two older brats' infant days.

With that situation resolved, I can focus on finding our apartment. I summon a map on my wand tip; a manhole about a thousand feet away will take us close to our high-rise.

The sewer offering only an unearthly stench, the walk towards the manhole proves uneventful. I climb the manhole's ladder and push the lid. Not wanting to be spotted leaving the sewers, I peek outside the now-open manhole, and I crawl out when I see the coast is clear.

"Oh, heavens!" I gasp as I stare at the building before me. Standing about forty stories in the air, the skyscraper towers over me. Knowing of my responsibilities, I've done research on cities, cityscapes and their ever-so-famous skyscrapers, but I never expected them to be this massive. It puts even Pipe Land's Metallic City to shame.

The building is also our flat.

Stunned, I walk towards the entrance and step inside the lobby. Elegant white marble coats the floor, walls and pillars of the lobby; we're in a high-end high-rise in Downtown Brooklyn; one meant for millionaires and royalty alike. To my left, a middle-aged human woman smiles as she places her folded hands onto the granite counter.

"Good morning!" the woman greeted as she pushes a brunette bang out of her face, "Are you new here?"

"Yes, we're new residents wanting to check in. The surname's under X," I stated with a fake Central Asian accent.

"X?!" the woman exclaimed, "I heard about you! You're the refugee from Afghanistan, right?"

I nod. For me and Roy to get residency visas to stay in New York, I had to tell a fib about us being former Soviet spies, backed by documents forged by Bowser and Kamek. Now that we're in a 'witness protection program', the United States government told us to pretend to be war refugees to stay hidden from possible Soviet mercenaries.

Ironically, the US government's lie is much closer to reality; just replace Soviet with Dark Land.

"Yep," I faked a tear, "I... I miss home sometimes, but I need... I need a safe place for him to grow up."

"I heard the Russians are doing a number to that place. I'm so sorry to hear," the woman apologized, genuine sadness in her eyes, "Do you need any help or anything?"

"We were... Not necessarily rich, but we were affluent," I mentioned. Of course, another fib, considering the Koopa Family's filthy rich, and renting a unit of this elegant apartment complex's only proof of such wealth, "So we have enough to stay here."

"Okay," the woman gives me a warm smile, "Please sign right here. Rent's due on the 1stof every month, although once every quarter, we can offer you a grace period up to the 5th. Utilities, water and everything else, all with a cap, comes included with the rent payment; exceed that cap and you'll pay extra."

I sign the lease papers, of course using my fake name. Smiling, I hand her the papers in exchange for the keys.

"Your apartment is Apartment 1366, located on the 13th floor. Your apartment contains the basics: a living area, a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. We have two elevators, located on the east and west side of the building, each with their own elevator operators, while the stairs are to the north. We also have a modest grocery store, packed with the freshest, wholesome ingredients, on our basement level, as well as a laundromat by it. If you have any questions, please let me know."

"I will, thank you," I replied. Geez, I haven't been this nice for this long in ages.

"We try to make your living in Brooklyn as easy as possible, so over there to your left, we have many pamphlets here that have maps of Brooklyn and New York, popular destinations, eateries, subway stations, Amtrak schedules, all that."

"Thanks again."

Keys in hand, I walk towards the east elevator and spot a woman wearing a dark blue uniform showing resemblance to a ship captain just outside of it.

"Hello!" the woman greeted me as she opens the elevator for me, "I don't recognize you. Are you new?"

"Yes. I just checked in," I told her.

"Nice! I think you'll enjoy it here," the woman smiled, "Floor number?"

"13."

The woman smiles as she pushes the button for Floor 13 then closes the door. As the elevator rises, she introduces herself to me.

"I'm Pauline, nice to meet you."

"I'm Kamella," I stated, "And this right here is Roy."

"Kamella. Roy," Pauline repeated as the elevator door opens at Floor 13, "I hope to see you around more often!"

"Thanks."

I step out of the elevator, marveling at the hallway's décor. The white marble walls provide a great contrast with the red, velvety carpet. Massive topaz chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering light throughout the corridor. Obsidian railings fence off the middle part of the floor, which proves to be a lookout of the tenth floor's lobby's installed fountain. Overall, I love the place, although I do prefer the darker theme of the Dark Land castle.

I continue admiring the sights until I stumble upon our door: Apartment 1366. I open the door to a modest apartment whose carpet bears resemblance to the halls while the wall's white plaster imitates the lobby's marble. The bathroom's to my immediate left, while the bedroom, only bearing a bed, just across the hall from it.

Although only containing a modest antenna TV and a pluff couch, I gape as I study the living area: the opposing wall only consists of a giant window. I can see the northern side of downtown Brooklyn and even Manhattan from the window; only then did I comprehend the magnitude of this colossal city. Despite the beauty, I've never done well in cities, but that fact will need to change now.

Sighing, I retreat to the bedroom and lay Roy on one side of the bed. I need to get ready for bed.

* * *

Day 83: October 1, 1982

It's been almost 3 months since we've arrived in New York, and I feel as if I should make another entry concerning our developments.

This will also be my last entry due to reasons that even the pages of this journal shouldn't see.

The rest of July went on without any events worthy of recording. Roy and I stayed in our high-rise, only leaving for the grocery store on the bottom floor.

Roy finally spoke his first words during the beginning of August, and by now in October, can communicate well. Only thing is, due to our location, Roy's native language appears to be English rather than Darklandian Koopish; whenever I try to teach him the language of Dark Land, he only gives me a confused look before questioning me in English. Perhaps he's mentally not ready to learn another language yet, so I'll let him learn the language he needs here in New York. Still, I communicate with him in Koopish the entire time we lived here, but he still appears confused whenever I use it.

Likewise, he took his first steps towards the end of August. I was quite worried because by the time koopa kids hit 3 months, they should be walking. He's not too far behind average, considering he was around 3 and a half months old at the time. We explored Brooklyn together several times after Roy got stronger at walking; the tall buildings and massive crowds of Downtown amaze him, while if anything, they only stress me out more. I don't get how people love living in the cities, but I must find out for myself, I suppose. It's not like I have a choice.

During one of our walks, we pass by a higher-end kindergarten classroom stuffed with art supplies, science-themed posters and toys. A charter school. Naturally, this attracted Roy's attention, who then demanded that I sign him up for it. Hesitation overcame me at that time; I didn't trust the son of royalty to a bunch of stupid humans, but Roy was getting to the point where he can physically fend for himself. So, I signed him up, and now I'm picking him up. I'm glad he's eager to learn; despite koopas being able to learn quicker and at an earlier age than humans, koopas have a much harder time gaining knowledge than humans of the same age after around their twentieth birthday due to brain development no longer occurring.

"Kamella! Look at da drawin' I made!" Roy called out to me as he exits the kindergarten. Yep, he has a thick, full-on Brooklyn New Yorker accent... Even trickier for him to learn Darklandian Koopish now. This kid's screwed now if he ever returns to Dark Land. Thanks, Kindergarten. But at least I'm forced to better my English now.

Roy hands me a piece of paper and I stare at it, wide-eyed. He drew what appears to be a castle surrounded by exploding bombs, several stick figures fighting each other and another person shooting someone else with a gun-like object. Is he somehow remembering his experiences in Dark Land's civil war? A four-month-old koopa tends not to care for violence, and would rather settle for goonie bird drawings and other innocent art. I'm surprised the kindergarten didn't discipline Roy; from what I see, New Yorkers aren't as tolerant for such violent culture.

I look down at Roy, who's smiling about the picture. He's proud of his drawing, but I don't think he fully understands what he drew.

"Roy..." I questioned, "Where did you get this drawing idea from?"

Showing no emotions, Roy simply shrugs. I just hope he doesn't think grueling war scenes are normal and acceptable in culture, and I certainly hope he won't commit them. At least, not yet.

I hand the picture back to Roy and I grab hold of his hand.

"Kamella..." The koopaling questions me.

"Yes, Roy?" I question him as we cross Willoughby Street and head towards the high-rise.

"Was my drawin' bad?"

"Uhh..." I stuttered, debating between offending him and lying, "It was good, but you know not to do violence here, right?"

"What's violence?" Roy questioned.

I sigh, "Nevermind."

"Ok. Kamella?"

"What?!" I questioned, patience ticking low.

"I wanna go back tomorrow. Da drawing and writing were fun!"

I let out a groan as we enter the high-rise and push for the elevator. I was hoping this was just a day-old phase, but apparently, it's not.

"Fine. But next time, maybe draw goonie birds or something."

Roy nods, although with a confused look implanted on his face.

"What's a goonie bird?"

"... Nevermind."

The elevator door opens, revealing Pauline in her uniform. She smiles at us both as she pushes for the 13th floor. As the elevator rises, she begins uttering her usual small talk.

"Good afternoon, Kamella! And hi Roy! How was school?"

"It was fun! We learned stuff and we drawed pictures. I did dis one!" Roy exclaimed as he hands Pauline his picture. Pauline stares wide-eyed at the contents before handing it back to Roy.

"Uhh... Very, umm, creative, Roy!" Pauline stated, appearing unnerved at the violent-inspired drawing.

"That was my reaction, too," I replied, "Maybe he remembers part of the war we fled."

"Yeah. Poor kid. Kids should never be exposed to the things I'm sure he saw..." Pauline said with a sad grimace, "I hope he grows out of it. Kids might, depending on how young they fled the trauma."

The elevator arrives on the 13th floor and the door opens. Pauline and I say our goodbyes and I walk towards the apartment.

Anyway, that's where I'm at in life right now. I may stop writing these entries soon. After all, Roy's getting old enough to continue; he can definitely write if he can manage to draw violent pictures.

Until we meet again.

Au revoir.

\- Kamella


	3. Loneliness

NOTES: Well, I finally updated! During November, I was participating in the NaNoWriMo challenge to write 50,000 words in November. Good news is I was successful, albeit in four different stories! Of course, I'm obviously not posting all 50,000 words right now, due to editing and the like, but the wait for the next few chapters of all my stories, including this one, won't be as long a wait. I can definitely squeeze in another chapter before the end of the year, perhaps even two.

From now on, all of these will be in Roy's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

NOTE: This is MY journal! ANYONE who reads this, other than me, the great Prince Roy Koopa of Dark Land, WILL get PUMMELLED until you have ameshia(?) and forget it! Consider this your final warning! Get outta here, loser!

Oh, fixed some of my spelling issues from back then too.

-ROY KOOPA, September 1, 1988

Day 282: April 18, 1983

Kamella's right. Humans are dumb. I was in kindergarten learning writing and drawing when I was four months old. Human kids go there when they're FOUR YEARS old. Why wait so long, morons?

Kindergarten was so boring that sometime during December I tested out of it and got promoted to some "First Grade". I like being first; I like competitions, so I thought that was a perfect fit, until a few months later I tested out of that and into second grade.

Why is second grade called second grade when it's tougher than first grade?

Weird English, I guess. But not as weird as that trash language thing Kamella always tried to get me to memorize. Like, who speaks that crap besides that old witch lady? Other old witch ladies? I'm not old; I turned 11 months today! I'm also not a witch, and I'm DEFINITELY not a lady! I'm a tough guy! A big, scary, tough guy!

Speaking of Kamella... Yeah. She's almost nonexistent. She disappears into the weirdest places for weeks at a time. I see her go down in the sewers and never come out. I know the sink sucks and the toilet gets clogged, but shouldn't she leave fixing it for plumbers? And does all that crap – haha, literally – get piled high enough to stay down there for 2 weeks?

Actually, I'm not sure how sewers work. Never been down one, and I don't wanna either.

Anyway, Kamella's gone somewhere, so once again I'm fending for myself. She has this stash of gold coins in her bedroom containing weird pictures of mushrooms on it, and she exchanges it for money down at the goldsellers at the corner. I'm not sure why the money is so valuable; it's green, paper, wrinkly and contains pictures of old men, but people prefer that as payment than gold coins, for some reason. Me? I like gold, man. But either way, I can get a lot of money from those coins, so I'm not worried.

But I hope she returns. I feel like she doesn't want me. And honestly, it hurts. But it hurts even more that I can't reveal that feeling to anyone else besides myself.

Anyway, I should get to school. Second grade's so boring and I hate my teacher. I hope to enter third grade soon, but summer's coming so I can't this year.

I exit the apartment building to businessmen, taxis and a flood of cars honking their horns. Typical Downtown Brooklyn; something's just refreshing about Manhattan bridge-crossing road rage. I follow a group of businessmen – fast-talking, rushing Manhattanites going to the subway no doubt – until I get to the school just by Park Street. An old-fashioned sort of building disguised as a high-end charter school. I sigh; time to go in.

I hate school; I can't wait until summer. Neither can many of my class mates. They're talking about how they're gonna go West to California for the summer, or they're going to summer school (suckers!). Me? I'm not sure yet. I heard Kamella talking about Massachusetts before. I'm not sure why; maybe she'll go there while isolating me again. Who knows?

Then again, I'm just a boy who just doesn't care about life or anyone else anymore. Life's a hell pit and everyone else are just demons added to it.

Anyway, Mrs. McCord, a big, overweight mammoth woman with long, blonde hair, steps into the class. The teacher tells us to stand up, and we did. We pledged allegiance to the flag and practiced a nuclear strike drill just like we do every Monday, followed by a "what did you do this weekend?" question the teacher always asks.

This question annoys me because these kids always mention their parents. I don't have parents or siblings. Not that I know of. I only had Kamella, and she disappears all the time, and even then, there's no way we're related. I'm pretty much alone, all day every day.

"I went to Niagra Falls with my parents!" One girl states in an awful accent I hear too often in Queens. The heck she doing in Brooklyn? This is my territory! It's like she sucked in the gas from one of those floaty balloons.

"I went to the Statue of Liberty with my parents!" A boy stated.

"I took a trip to Philly with my parents!"

"I went to the Met with my parents!"

Everyone went around the room, explaining what they did that weekend. They honestly make me wish my life was simple; it must be easy and great having parents or someone that actually cares about them. A lot of times I wish I had that too. I wouldn't feel so alone and bored.

"Roy?" I snap out of my thoughts as everyone's eyes rest on me and some random girl giggles at me. Oh, right. What I did this weekend. Well, I paid the rent for Kamella... I shopped and cooked, which turned out terrible so I got a White Castle burger for myself... I just... Explored everywhere on my own. But I know the one moment I'd say any of those, I'd get Child Services called on me. Instead, I play it safe and fibbed.

"Nuttin', really. Was pukin' mad buckets Saturday. So, uh, ab workout?"

Well, that portion was true. As I said, my cooking turned out terrible. Plus, multiply all that with crap plumbing and you get a horrible product that only acts as a factor for more disgustingness. Hey, I rock these second-grade math terms already!

"Eww!" The class squealed at my explanation, causing me to smirk. Meanwhile, Mrs. McCord shakes her head, unamused at my behavior.

"Could've spared us that detail, Roy," she stated, "Why do I still call on you?"

"Ya asked me fer details," I mutter in a tone soft enough for the teacher not to notice. Why does she get so butthurt? Why does she hate me? I don't get it? I'm still following instructions. Not my fault she can't clarify.

"I was hoping for something you did with your family."

Woman...

"Well, my family was sick also, so we all gathered in da bathroom, heavin' up our boots. It was like a frickin' gameshow on who filled up da throne first, man! And-" I lied, attempting to infuriate my teacher even more. Of course, I was successful.

"No more, Roy! We don't want to hear your vomit stories! And do NOT swear in my classroom! Next time, you're going to the Principal's!"

I grin to myself at her threat. Of course, with me having no family, the principal threat means nothing to me. Unless she also calls Child Services on me...

The class continues, but Mrs. McCord's statements bothered me. Not only don't I have a family, but I'm the only one who doesn't. I thought growing up on your own was normal, but... It's not.

Who even are my parents? It's definitely not Kamella. Why? Because she's ugly; I'm cute. Are they alive? Do they know Kamella? Does Kamella know who my parents are?

I want to find out. I need to find out. If my past is a mystery, then how can I ever know about myself now?

\- ROY X

* * *

Day 312: Wednesday, May 18, 1983

Today's my first birthday, according to some documents Kamella had on me. I don't know what happens on a birthday, but apparently my classmates get gifts... From their family. In the past week, one kid in my class got a bike for his birthday, while a girl received a bunch of Barbies.

What did I get? A broken sink, a burned-out toaster and a busted fridge. Great birthday for me. I can't wait until my teacher asks me what I got for my birthday; yet another tradition she does.

Sometimes I wish I had an actual family. Someone I can share my thoughts with. My feelings. Someone I can depend on. Someone that I can help. Someone I could love. Geez, Love. I hate that word. It's so sappy. And it's so gross. It shows that I'm vulnerable. But it's true; after my entire life of feeling just hate, I just want to love and be loved.

But maybe I'm better off without one. I learned to be more independent; isn't that a good thing? Why throw that away for some silly, stupid emotions?

Anyway, I need to call the appliance fixer and the plumber. Wish me luck.

\- ROY X

* * *

Day 336: Saturday, June 11, 1983 

Good news and bad news.

Good news first: SCHOOL'S OUT! Well, it ended last week. Anyway, I'm done with 2ndgrade! I'm done with that hate-filled Mrs. McCord! I'm done with those other annoying kids! I'll be in 3rdgrade after summer break! Boo-ya!

Of course, I'll pass that easily. This system clearly wasn't built for me, but why stow it when I can game it and look smart? I hear people do that all the time and becoming doctors at 9 years old or something. At least they don't waste the first 4 years of their life not drawing or learning their letters like most lazy brain-dead humans do.

Anyway, Kamella also came back from her mysterious disappearance. I attempt to question about where she goes, but she's always dismissive. She probably thinks I'm an idiot, or I'm too young to understand anything, but I don't think I am. I'm a genius whenever I want to be. Really!

And her return leads into the bad news:

I had to leave New York for the summer to our summer house in a place called Hyannis in Massachusetts. So, of course, Kamella came back to ride the train there with me (we arrived yesterday) before swiftly disappearing again. I don't get her. I still don't.

Unlike Brooklyn, there's literally nothing to do here in Massachusetts. There really isn't. Hyannis is a tiny village full of boats and fishing docks, with a so-called "business center" containing maybe twenty businesses at most.

Instead, much of my time spent here has been spent watching TV. From being here and being bored, I got more into baseball. Tonight won't be an exception as I'll watch the Yankees kill the Brewers tonight, because there's no nightlife here either.

Other New Yorkers apparently come here; I can tell by their car license plates. I don't see the big craze, though? What about all the businesses, or the soothing traffic sounds, or all the lights? Why come here to the emptiness? I need to know what in the world they see of value here.

The Sun sets before I realize. I open the front door; complete darkness surrounds me. I don't see a single light in distance. I then notice the lack of sound around me. No horns; no footsteps creaking the ceiling, no airplanes. Nothing.

I hate it here. Brooklyn at least made me feel like a part of a community. But here with the silence, I never felt more alone in my life. I feel isolated and unwanted. I feel like I'm in some abyss or void where nothing but teasing memories keeping me company. And honestly, I'm scared.

I hope hearing the commentators' voices in the baseball game will take away this feeling from me. I hate being alone.

-ROY X


	4. Memories

Day 343: Saturday, June 18, 1983

I finally found something to do here!

Okay, so, in the so-called "business district" I talked about earlier, there's a music store. It has a ton of cassettes, vinyl records, and all that stuff in it. There are also little demonstration room things where you can listen to the music. It's awesome.

Anyway, I'm exploring in there now. I'm digging the new rock music honestly, although the music store manager admits she likes The Beatles and The Turtles better. I like them, but their style's just... Different.

One by one I go through the available rock albums, especially the new releases. Blondie's Parallel Lines, R.E.M.'s Murmur, The B-52's Whammy and Aerosmith's Night in the Ruts, among others. Y'know, the good stuff.

Hour after hour passes, until I land in the classical music section. I don't know much classical music, and I don't really feel like researching into them, but I go through those anyway. They have a lot of composers like Beethoven, Haydn, Bach, Chopin and Mozart. Each are... Well, cool. But they're extremely long. I'm not used to 30-minute songs, but I've got nothing but time to burn, baby.

Sometime later, I reach the end of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (which is good, but totally overrated, by the way) and continue to the next song: Beethoven's 7th Symphony Allegretto.

The moment the song starts playing, I didn't find myself in the record shop, but rather in a dark, barren medieval-style fortress of some kind. Fire rained down all around me, bombs explode just feet from me, and I feel restrained by some unknown force. I questioned the entire experience; I even assumed I'd be frightened over the destruction happening all around me. I should be; I felt my life at jeopardy, and I felt as if everything will come to a dark, unknown end.

But, I wasn't panicked. I remained calm, and at peace. In fact, I was tired, and I felt as if I can sleep through all that commotion. I don't know why the feeling came around me. I hate emptiness and loneliness, but in this moment, I found it serene.

The song ends a few minutes later, and I see the store manager hovering over me.

"Ahh, music. It's powerful; it uncovers feelings and memories even we thought we didn't have," the manager said to me with a smile.

I stare at her, puzzled. What was she talking about?

"I heard you mention some names," the manager continued, "Such as Ludwig."

I quake when I hear the name. Ludwig. Why does that name sound so familiar? As if it's a part of me?

"The composer's name was Ludwig van Beethoven. His music was popular in the 1800's," the manager told me.

"Uh, cool. Maybe dat's why," I nodded. Ludwig van Beethoven. That must be it. But why did his songs transport me to a whole different world filled with terror? And why did I feel peace during those times?

"You a New Yorker?" the owner questioned.

"Brooklyn," I nod as I flinch at her R-slaughtering accent. She's nice, but Bostonian accents are terrible.

"I can tell by your voice. Granted, Brooklyners sound better than the others there. But geez, no wonder. I'd be fleeing that place for more than just the summer! All that nightlife and the concrete jungle. Just doesn't appeal to me."

"Dat's all I know," I replied, "So bein' here is weird."

"Understandable, but I think you'll love it. More people from New York live here than actual Bay Staters," the owner nodded, "If you need anything, then let me know."

"Actually," I replied before digging into my shell and grabbing a twenty, "Can I buy dis Beethoven one?"

"Ahh, Beethoven's symphonies; it comes with all nine symphonies. Some of the most beautiful music you'll ever hear," the owner complimented, "Do you want the cassettes or the vinyl?"

"Cassettes. I don't have a record player in New York."

"We can always change that!" the manager offered, which I shook my head to.

"We came by train."

The manager nods as I give her the twenty; in return, she lets me take the nine Beethoven symphonies.

The sun set by the time I left the store; considering I've been there since the morning, I must've gone through a marathon of songs. Despite the darkness, I spot a few others shopping in the district while other store owners prepare to close. I nod in satisfaction; I need to remember that I'm truly not alone. People just have a different lifestyle here.

* * *

Day 359: Monday, July 4, 1983

So, today's Independence Day! Fourth of July! I sort of know what it's about (the birthday of the country, at least) but I'm not sure why it's important or anything.

But who cares about stupid political reasons (plus, politics are for stupid old people anyway), because people are having picnics. Not only that, but I was invited to one! So, I went to it.

On the beach near our house is a large pavilion thing with a lot of tables packed with at least a hundred people. Speakers playing patriotic songs are everywhere while other kids run around. On three of the tables were meats, salads, watermelon slices, desserts and other things. Of course, being me, I went straight to the meats while ignoring the other junk. I took some brisket as well as sausages, a hamburger, a hot dog and short ribs.

I didn't know where to sit under the pavilion, and I didn't want to sit by anyone else either, so I resorted to sitting on the beach's sand. The sand and the sunlight were both hot, but the ocean's mist cooled me down just enough to make the area enjoyable. I can see why people relax here; this is near-perfect.

I finish the hot dog (It was good, but it wasn't a Coney Island dog either) and some of the brisket before the patriotic music gets cut off and a guy starts speaking in a microphone system.

"Welcome to the annual Cape Cod barbecue!" the guy welcomed, "We gather here as Bay Staters, New Yorkers and others, not as foes or adversaries, but as American patriots. As the descendants of those who fled persecution, violence and hardships. Perhaps some of you here are immigrants yourselves!"

The crowd cheers.

"Those who came here, they came without an ounce of knowledge about this land. They only knew of their homeland. But they came, they worked, and they built this great place which we know today. The children they bore, in retrospect, know only of this land, and not the land which their parents came from. They were born blessed by the desires their parents had!"

That statement pierced me. I'm not the only one who's unsure of my past; many of these people are also unfamiliar of where they originated from. I'm not the strange, out of place person here. I'm part of the majority. As curious as I am, that realization relieves me.

"Today, we celebrate their hard work, their perseverance, their diligence, and their desire for freedom! I truly hope their traits resonates within each and every one of us, not just today or the next week, but for our lifetimes. Now let's enjoy this feast and thank the hands that prepared it! And, of course, God bless America!"

The crowd cheers again as they all resort back to eating. I continue pondering over the words as I bite into one of the sausages. Maybe I'm not an outcast or a freak. I don't care for religion, but maybe I've grown this way because of some larger, "spiritual" plan. Who knows, but I hope I can find out soon.

I finish my food. Full, I resort to laying on my stomach on the sand, switching between my thoughts and listening to everything around me. Most people were done eating and are now either playing beach volleyball, fishing or going boating.

I must've went to sleep a few times; by the time I sit up, the Sun set already, and a mass of people sit on the beaches surrounding me. Clueless, I was about to ask what was going on until I overheard a few conversations going on around me.

"Fireworks are soon!"

"Which types of fireworks will they have?"

"I'm so excited for them to start!"

Curious, I stay for these... Fireworks. I think I've seen them in New York launched around the Statue of Liberty on New Years Eve, but that was it. Those looked cool.

Not long after, things shot into the sky then exploded. As they went off, I'm once again taken to a dark scene of a castle, all alone; in there, I'm forced to stare out a window. Every time I hear another explosion, the scene flashes red as blood flies all over and high-pitched, blood-curdling screams fill my head. By this time, I'm not hearing these so-called fireworks, but bombs, gunshots and even cannons. As one particular explosion went off, I feel a sudden force overcome me, pin me and prevent me from moving.

Partially back in reality, I stare in horror at the sky, confused of what's occurring but also hating the situation. I look at others around me; they all have awe-stricken looks, and some even mutter oooh's and ahhh's. How the heck are they HAPPY about this?! What sick minds do these people have?

I try to stare at the fireworks, but I couldn't anymore. Even if they burst into cool colors, all I can hear are bombs, and all I can picture in my mind is that same dark, lonely castle. The immobility I was feeling in my head tries to spread to reality, causing me to hesitate even more.

I can't do this. I can't be here anymore. These imaginings, these visions, these memories – I don't know what they are – are making everything miserable, and I can't control them.

I run towards my beach house, plugging my ears and partially closing my eyes. I swing the door open, slam it shut and lock it before I sit on the ground behind the door, ears plugged, eyes closed and head bowed. I can still hear the explosions, which floods me with more horrific images of something I don't even know. Through the images, I can feel myself breaking down and almost sobbing in real life.

Through all my pain, I hear a faint whispering of my name as the latest explosion goes off.

I open my eyes and look around me. I know it wasn't the voice of Kamella, but at this moment, I even wish for her to be here. Instead, I find no one around me. I hear my name whispered again combined with another boom.

The whispering's only a memory, but I can actually HEAR it. Anxiety increasing, I try to find a way to end the images and the suffering they cursed me with. Anything; I'll do anything just to get rid of these painful visions, no matter what it takes.

That's when I spot the cassette player and the Beethoven tape in it. And that's when I remembered why I bought it: because when I was listening to it, I was stuck in the same scene, but I felt at ease. I get up in haste and rewind the tape before pushing play. Beethoven's 7th Symphony Allegretto comes out of the speakers, lulling me into a sense of security. I still envision myself in that castle, but I feel at peace despite everything going on.

This castle... I don't know what it represents, but it's not that castle itself that's evil. But, still, what does it even mean? Why does this specific song ease me, and not anything else?

Feeling a sudden urge to sleep, I turn up the music and lay in my bed, trying my best to focus on the music rather than the explosions, which have been going off at a much greater speed than they were a minute ago.

Then, the explosions stop, whatever threatened me disappeared, and I was able to finally fall asleep.

Sheesh, what a rollercoaster day. Now I know to never stay outside past 6PM on July 4th.

– Roy X

* * *

Day 396: Wednesday, August 10, 1983

I leave tomorrow for Brooklyn. School's starting up again on Monday, and I guess I'm kinda excited for it? I hope my teacher won't be so rude this year like that other one was.

But less on that and more on my summer. The rest of the summer in Massachusetts wasn't that exciting. Relaxing? Sure, but not exciting. Cape Cod is a great swimming area and a boating hotspot, but... I'll be honest. I hate water. I think water is stupid. I've heard of so many people drowning in beaches and pools and stuff, and that doesn't help that at all. Why would idiots go in the water if that can happen to them? You know what I mean? Why are people so stupid?

I think one day I'll move to a desert. Maybe some city in the desert so I don't have to worry about oceans or rain. Phoenix sounds good. Maybe I'll live in Phoenix when I'm older.

The summer surprised me though. I didn't hate this place like I did when I came here. For once in my life, I could actually hear my thoughts and figure stuff out. My summer stay here taught me more about my past, even if I don't know SPECIFICALLY what yet. I don't know where I came from, but I know I didn't start off in Brooklyn (I still consider myself a Brooklyner though because that's all I know). Perhaps that stupid castle I have nightmares about might relate. And, from digging into my thoughts through music at the music store, I'm no longer certain about me not having family members at least SOMEWHERE.

I hate to admit it, but I needed this trip, but this need might not be what I wanted.

I'm curious now, I don't know how to find out any more information, and Kamella's no help in this field. Maybe it would've been best for me to stay ignorant of my past.

No, it wouldn't! I need my past! I need to find out who I truly am!

Okay. I'm ranting at this point. But that was my summer in Massachusetts. I guess I return here sometime in June to do this again. I don't get the point of a summer house, but it's... Uh, cool.

– Roy X


	5. Friendliness

Day 409: Tuesday, August 23, 1983

Okay, I'll say this.

I like my teachers! Yes, teachers. Plural. I think that's the word for more than one. Now in third grade, we switch teachers for different classes. The best news is they also teach fourth grade, so if I pass third grade, I'll still have them as teachers!

My reading teacher and homeroom teacher's this woman, Mrs. July. She's this lady from Africa, so she tells all these cool stories about her life and her family over there. Her family owns a chocolate plantation somewhere there, which I never knew chocolate was a plant. I'm not attached to chocolate or anything, but does that make it a vegetable we can eat? Or a fruit?

Anyway, the plantation her family owns provides the village she grew up in over there with food, money and jobs. Her family funded her to go to college here using their plantation money. She became the first in her family to graduate. I find that cool, how people dump everything they have in life just to try to make it better, armed only with the support from their family. I wish I had that.

But she's friendly! She's the nicest person I met. The past week I've been in her class, she asks me how my life is every day and cheers me on. She brought donuts in last Friday; she said we deserve to be rewarded for surviving the week of school. She gives us hints for our classwork from her class or from other classes.

She's just great.

My math teacher's another woman, this thin, blonde lady, Miss Smaha. She's not as open with her life, but she makes us laugh with these word problems about some idiot falling "48 divided by 8" times on the ice when it snowed. The moron should worry less about the times he fell and more about wearing some golf cleats to school. Have you ever seen what golf cleats look like? There's no slipping in those.

She also cares for us and tries everything she can (at least in the first week) to help us with problems we might be stuck on. She shows us the steps and everything with a similar example, then watches us try to solve it. It's really neat.

My last teacher is my social studies teacher, Mr. Powell. He used to be a comedian, so he makes constant historical puns and jokes that even I find funny. And... I don't know. He makes history not boring. And he's chill too.

Anyway, I have respect for them, and I actually trust them more than I have anyone else in my life (except Pauline, of course)... And that was just in a week. If I need to be open with anyone about my life, I might with them.

Maybe they'll be the closest thing I have to a family at this point.

But I probably should leave that point out whenever I talk to them.

Pauline's also been great company, even if I only see her for a few minutes a day. Whenever I take the elevator, she asks me how my day's been, followed by my general wellbeing. We've gotten into some more personal topics, but even then I haven't told her about Kamella's guardianship (lack of), because I fear she'll tell the staff which will get me evicted. I like living here. It's the only home I know.

That's one reason I'm still hesitant in finding my past. Kamella always told me we were from some place called the Soviet Union, and that I appear how I do because of an experiment that went wrong, but I always hear bad things about that place in school. What if I don't like that area I came from? What if I'm forced to be there, and I can't come back?

-Roy X

* * *

Day 418: Thursday, September 1, 1983

I was bored, I have money from exchanging more of those gold coins, and the Yankees were playing at home tonight against the Tigers, so I did what any other person with a brain did.

I went to the game.

I guess a lot of people had the same idea, because they were all wearing Yankee clothes as we sat in the subway going towards the Bronx. Almost everyone got off the subway when the Yankee Stadium station came, and they all walk towards the stadium.

I never been to the stadium, and I've only been to the Bronx once – that was by accident – so I followed them as they crossed streets and overpasses. I study the borough more; it's definitely not Brooklyn, and a lot of buildings looked abandoned, but it still wasn't terrible either.

When we all arrived at the stadium, we all stood in line to buy the tickets. I was lucky and got in line not long before all the seats were sold out. I took my seat in the center field area and I just watched.

The game was interesting for the first two or three innings, but then my great Yankees pulled ahead. The Tigers tried to score, especially in the fifth inning when they had the bases stacked, but they were struck out before any runs could be made. The six, seventh and eighth innings were worse for them, but the Yankees never scored during them either.

I left the stadium sometime during the ninth inning. Ever since my experiences with fireworks during July 4th, I wasn't trusting of being around them, so I made sure to leave before they start. I think they do fireworks? I know some teams do. But count me out of the rocket's red glare and the bombs bursting in air.

Plus, a sudden eight-point upset won't happen in an inning for a team that didn't score. That'll be a miracle.

After I left the game, I try to take the subway station, but something broke at that station that will take at least a few hours to fix. They had buses as a backup, but they weren't leaving for an hour and a half. I didn't know where to go, but from a map I looked at before I left, I knew there were some transportation areas to the south.

I decided to keep going south. Originally, the plan seemed great, but the farther I walked, the darker the area got, and the streets got... Sketchy. Worse off, I'm not familiar with the Bronx at all, and I have no idea where I am, especially with the Sun gone by now.

By this time, I'm in a neighborhood full of destroyed buildings, run-down barred businesses and almost no street lighting. Trash and house pieces fill the streets and the brown lawns, while the sidewalks, if even in existence, are almost unwalkable. Trees and big bushes grow inside crumbling houses. I knew I wasn't in a friendly place, especially at night, but I also didn't know how to get out of it either.

I perk up as I hear noise behind me. It's probably some of the stupid wind trying to scare me. The wind dies down a bit, but the sound behind me continues. Confused, I look behind me: a crew of masked people, probably teenaged guys, stand behind me. Despite their masks, I can still spot hostility among them.

Catching my stare, the men spoke to each other in some other language before they approach me.

"Yo dude, da hell you doin' on our turf?"

"Wha-" I responded before I'm suddenly pushed to the ground. The group of guys surround me, each looking down at me. Caught off-guard from the initial push, I couldn't do anything but stare back at them, helpless.

"Wrong answer, punk!" one of the guys shouted before kicking my sides, causing me to yelp, "Shut yer face or we'll do it for ya!"

"Why... Just let me go-" I cried as I try to get back up, disoriented. As I do so, one of them punches me in the face, knocking me back down, and starts kicking me again. By this time, I felt pain everywhere; I thought I was about to die. Trying to lessen the punch's pain, I cover my face with my hands as I try to hold back sobs.

"Hahaha. Dis punk's so pathetic," one of the guys stated before spitting on me and joining in on the kicking. As I lay on the ground, I realized something: I wanted to do something to protect myself or to even fight back, but I found myself too weak and too exhausted. I'm much more pathetic than I thought, and I hated myself for it.

What seems like an eternity of abuse and kicking, and me being too weak to do anything about it, I hear what sounds like a pickup truck pull up. The group pause their abuse to me and look towards the truck. Finding the energy to look up with them, I see two overalled men get out from the truck.

"What do you think you're doing?" one green-clad guy questioned in a light accent that I hear from the Italian immigrants in South Brooklyn, "Go back home, or you'll regret it!"

"Oh please, dis punk intruded," one of the guys beating me up replied, "Just teachin' him a lifelong lesson!"

"You get off him right now, before we teach you another lesson," the red-clad guy threatened. Despite the darkness, I can still see the anger on his face.

"Don't you-"

"NOW!" the red-dressed guy shouted, causing my abusers to flee the scene. Still lying on the ground, I continue staring at my two heroes as they approach me. The green-clad one holds his hand for me to grab on, which despite the pain, I did.

"Hey," the man addressed me as he helps me stand up, "What's your name?"

"Uhh, Roy," I said as I brush myself off, wincing from the pain as I do so.

"Well, Roy. I'm Luigi," the man stated, "You sound like a fellow Brooklyner. What are you doing in the Bronx?"

"I wanted to see da game," I answered, afterwards noticing how defensive my tone was.

"Well, okay. But, tip for you. You're no longer in Brooklyn; you can't randomly walk everywhere and be safe. We're in South Bronx. Unless you have business here, South Bronx and Upper Manhattan should be avoided like the plague. They're extremely dangerous areas. Next time you want to mindlessly explore, you're better off going to a Mets game. You won't die in Queens."

"Gee, thanks," I replied as I try to rub one of my hurting eyes, but I flinch the moment my hand touches it.

"You have a black eye," Luigi informed me, "Get in the truck. We'll take you home."

I still didn't trust this Luigi figure and I wanted to protest the suggestion, but the moment I took a step, I realize that my body's too sore, and that every step will only hurt more.

"Fine," I sighed as I get into the truck. I squeeze into the middle seat, between Luigi and the red overalled man. The man gives me a small smile before shifting the truck into first gear.

"I'm Mario," the guy introduced himself as we drive off, "You're lucky we had our last plumbing appointment of the day up here. We've dealt with those thugs before; that's why they ran after we came. Also, NEVER do what we done; any thugs down here could have guns, and they will use them. Luckily, they didn't."

"Wait! You're plumbers!" I exclaimed, "We need a plumber. Our bathroom plumbing sucks, and no one else can fix it."

"Here's our card," Luigi digs into his pocket, pulls out a business card and hands it to me. I observe the card. Mario Brothers Plumbing; I haven't heard of them, but then again they're based in South Brooklyn, away from us Northerners... Wait, how do they have Bronx appointments? "We have a spot open for Tuesday at 11am. In fact, that's the last appointment of the day on Tuesdays."

"I'll take it," I stated before giving him the apartment's address, unit number and phone number.

"Good deal," Luigi stated, "Is this your complex?"

I look outside the window, for once relieved about seeing my complex. All I want to do is sleep for a week and forget about everything in life, including this miserable night.

"Yep."

We pull up to my high-rise. I get out and limp towards the lobby, pretending that all's well. About halfway towards the building, I had to pause, the pain being too great to bear. At that point in time, I didn't care who noticed my weakness. I couldn't press on by myself.

My eyes started watering. With my black eye, I couldn't wipe the tears or else I'll be in even more pain, resulting in me looking like nothing else but a pathetic mess in public, in the middle of a busy Brooklyn night. I knelt on the pavement, wishing for the pain to go away, or for me to at least have the strength to push on. But it never came.

I couldn't even walk.

I'm pathetic. I hate being pathetic.

I now understand why Kamella isolated me. Because I'm a wimp. Hopeless. Useless. An outcast. A waste-

"Roy?" a voice broke my thoughts. I look up at the source, stunned.

"L-Luigi," I uttered, surprised and thankful that he stayed long enough for me, "I thought y-you left."

"I wouldn't ever leave someone injured behind," the plumber comforted as he holds out his hand for me to grab, "Now let's get you to your apartment."

I continue looking up at him in shock before I reach out for his hands. He helps me up, and I lean on his shoulder, expecting him to offer up the support. Instead, he swoops me in his arms.

"I can't have you walk. You're in too much pain," Luigi replied as he walks inside the building. I stare at him in awe; not once in my life did anyone show any sort of affection or selflessness to me, and now I'm getting it from someone who I met an hour ago. A bundle of confusing, undiscovered emotions burst within me, but I didn't—I couldn't—express them in any way but with a grin. I didn't know how else.

"Elevators?" Luigi inquired before heading to our typical eastside elevator—he answered his own question before I was able to. Pauline's shift ended hours ago—she'd probably hunt down Kamella if she saw me like this, and I didn't want that anyway—so instead, Luigi has to operate the elevator himself, "Floor?"

"13," I heaved.

As the elevator rose, I felt even more reassured, sleepy and safe in Luigi's arms. All I remember is the elevator arriving at the eleventh floor, then I was out cold.

-Roy X

* * *

Tuesday, September 6, 1983

I didn't leave the apartment at all ever since last Thursday. I didn't want to deal with the world; I didn't want to look weak. I hardly ate because food, other than some leftovers and frozen meals I happened to have in the fridge, either required energy to cook or energy to walk and get, and I wasn't feeling either.

I lied in bed literally all day Friday, other than using the broken plumbing. I didn't even go to school. I was too sore and weak to move into another position in bed, let alone get out of bed. Saturday wasn't much better. Sunday I still felt pain, but I could begin to move again, and I felt better yesterday.

Today, I'm more bored than anything, but I also debate staying here. I'm for sure not going to school. My black eye hasn't healed, although it's not as painful as it was, and I didn't want the world to see it. Mario and Luigi are coming at any moment to fix this stupid plumbing, but they at least already know about my current condition.

Oh, crud! The rent! I was supposed to pay it after I got back from the game on Thursday, but... The obvious stuff happened!

I call the downstairs lobby about the rent. Despite them only allowing payments up to the 5th four times a year, they still allowed me to pay the rent, albeit giving me a warning. Ten minutes after that call, a collector comes to my room and collects the check that I forged Kamella's signature on.

I frown. The collector was none other than Pauline.

"Roy!" she exclaimed as she saw my face, "What happened to you!"

"Nuthin'," I muttered, "Let's drop it."

"That is not nothing, Roy!" she raised her voice, concern leaking throughout, "Where'd you get your black eye?! Where were you the past week? And why are you so skinny?!"

"It doesn't matter! Just drop it!"

"Yes it does!" Pauline retorted, "Roy, I care about you. Was this from Kamella-"

"Would ya just leave me alone and get out of my life! Now take your stinkin' money!" I shouted as I shove the check in her hand and slam the door. I hear a slew of poundings on the door, which I ignored. I feel bad for exploding on her, but everything I try to forget about, she becomes nosy in, and it's just exhausting.

The poundings stop, but a few minutes later, I hear another knock, this time gentler. I open the door and spot two overalled men carrying various tools, one wearing red and the other green. I give them a little smile; Mario and Luigi.

"Good morning, Roy," Mario greeted as he holds out his gloved hand to me. I shake it, although careful to not injure my arm further.

"You're looking better, although your black eye's still there," Luigi observed, "How're you feeling?"

"Yeah, I've been doin' better," I replied, "I'm still a lil' sore. Haven't left da apartment since; I don't wanna with my black eye."

Mario and Luigi raise their eyebrows at the information before exchanging looks between each other.

"You know what? I'll fix the plumbing," Mario offered, "Luigi's gonna take you around town. You need to go outside."

"But my eye-"

"I know a few places where we can get that fixed. I promise, you'll enjoy it," Luigi interrupted as he grabs my hand, "Follow me."

I try to decline the offer, but the plumber drags my arm to the point where I have to follow him. We take the elevator down to the ground floor—as we used the west elevator, we didn't encounter Pauline—before we exit the lobby and cross Willoughby Street.

"Where we goin'?" I questioned as we stumbled upon the mall across the street from my complex.

Luigi smiles as he holds the door open for us. The mall was huge; it bustled with hundreds of people going into different stores and checking out the deals. The multiple sounds of people talking comforted me, despite my unwillingness to leave the apartment in the first place. Still remaining silent, Luigi guides me to a vender in the middle of the walkway who is selling sunglasses.

"Look at these," Luigi showed me, "These shield your eyes from the Sun's light, but they can also mask a black eye.

I look at the sunglasses, amazed at the selections, the colors and the styles. I put on a few of them, impressed at how they dim the otherwise bright mall. In fact, my eyes feel more relaxed with them on than without them.

"Cool!" I exclaimed as I try on different ones. Although they were all cool, the colors didn't really fit well with me.

As I hesitate on which ones to get, Luigi comes towards me, a reddish-pink pair of shades in hand.

"Try these on! I think they match you."

I put them on and look in the mirror. They fit perfectly with my pink head, plus they hide my eyes! These are a keeper. I grin as I give Luigi a thumbs-up. Nodding, Luigi pays for them before crumpling the receipt and throwing it away.

"How are they?" Luigi questioned me.

I continue grinning, "I'm diggin' dese."

Luigi smiles as we walk towards the exit, but when he notices a large machine by the wall, he moves us towards it instead. Luigi pulls back a curtain, revealing a bench.

"Uhh..." I stare at it in confusion, "What's dis?"

"What?! You never took pictures in a photo booth before?" Luigi questioned in surprise.

I shake my head, unsure of what a photo booth even was.

"Sit down in there. We're doing it!"

I get into the machine as Luigi inserts a nickel. Afterwards, I notice a flashing red light followed by a flash. The process occurs three more times before it ends, printing two strips of four pictures.

"Heh. They're fun," Luigi stated as he puts in another nickel, "Now that you know what it is, let's do some more."

The red light flashes again, and this time we start doing poses. The first pose was a picture of us being serious; the second one was both of us making the peace sign with our hands; the third was of us laughing, and the fourth was the two of us giving each other bunny ears. As the pictures end, two strips of pictures, each containing the four we took, print out. Luigi grabs them and gives one to me. I pocket it.

We decided to go to the food court afterwards, where we ordered pizza slices. Luigi got a loaded sausage while I got a meat-lover's. Luigi paid for them, once again hiding the price, while we sit at a two-seater table towards the middle of the food court.

"Dat was fun," I stated, still wearing my new shades, "I needed it."

"I'm glad you liked it," Luigi nodded, "The mall's one great area to relieve stress."

"Yeah..." I trailed off as Luigi continues staring at me.

"So, I noticed both when I brought you to your apartment and earlier today. I haven't seen either of your parents."

My heart sank. I only knew Luigi for a week, yet he's the one I'd feel the worst about lying to. He's been there for me that whole time, and I wanted to tell him the truth and my entire situation, but I didn't know if that was the wisest move either.

I sighed, making my decision, "I don't have parents. I don't even know where I came from. I have a... 'guardian' who isolates me. I pretty much live alone."

I expected Luigi to laugh, freak out, call me a liar or phone Child Services, but the plumber only nods.

"Mario and I were the same way."

I widen my eyes, not expecting anyone else to understand my condition.

"We don't know where we came from either. We were raised by Italian immigrants down in South Brooklyn, but they told us they weren't our actual parents. We don't know who our biological parents are, but I always considered Ma and Pa to be our true parents," Luigi sighs as he takes off his cap and pulls back his brown hair, "I miss them. Ma and Pa passed on when Mario and I were ten. Ever since then, we raised each other. We went from the streets, to going to school, to owning our own plumbing business and apartment here."

I nod my head, shocked at the story. I never expected anyone's story to be like mine.

"So, Roy... You're not alone. I always wanted to pay it forward to someone else in need, just like Ma and Pa did to me, so if you need anything or any company, just let me know."

"Wow," I exclaimed, not expecting compassion from anyone, "Uhh, I-I don't know what to say."

"Just promise to remember that you aren't alone. You are never alone," Luigi requested, "I know how hard it can be being alone. It sucks; it felt like the world went against me growing up. Every time I had a success, I felt like ten failures accompanied it. But the one thing that kept my spirits up was the support from Mario. If you ever feel like you're in the darkest pits, just let me know and I'll be there for you."

I beamed. For the first time in my life, someone truly cares for me and can relate to me.

"Now, let's go back. Your plumbing should be fixed."

I nod and I get up, following my new friend out of the mall. At least everything doesn't feel so dark and lonely anymore.

-Roy X


End file.
